


I Spit On Your Garage

by casstayinmyass



Category: Scream (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Canon Compliant, Character Death Fix, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Female Reader, Fix-It, Fluff and Smut, High School, Horror, Making Out, Near Death Experiences, Oral Sex, Tatum Is A Sassy Ray Of Sunshine And I Love Her, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 17:15:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21449821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: You and your girlfriend do your best to survive the killings plaguing Woodsboro, while being the cutest couple around.
Relationships: Billy Loomis/Sidney Prescott, Tatum Riley/Reader, Tatum Riley/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	I Spit On Your Garage

You have the house to yourself this weekend, so naturally, you find your girlfriend to invite her over.

“Tate!” you shout across the school lawn. She comes running over to you in her black and white cropped jersey.

“Hey, babe. What’s up?” She gives you a quick kiss and takes your arm, her usual cheerful self. You walk up to the doors with her, joining Sidney and saying hi to her.

“Parents are out of town,” you tell her. She squeezes your arm excitedly, gasping.

“Say no more. I’m bringing ice cream, sparkling wine, and handcuffs.”

You blush, and Sidney covers her ears.

“Catch you two later,” she laughs, and dashes off before she has to hear any more about your sex life. That’s when Stu makes his presence known from behind you two.

“You were saying?”

“Get outta here,” Tatum beats her ex’s shoulder with her bag.

“Oww! Just wanted to say, there’s a party tomorrow night at Sid’s.”

“Oh. Does… Sidney know about this?” you ask him.

“Not yet. But her dad’s out of town, so we’ll drop the suggestion to her.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Whatever,” Tatum mutters, “We might make it. If we’re not too busy with our tongues in strange places.”

You cover your mouth, giggling, and Stu looks at you two in awe.

“Aw, man… why’d we never do that?”

“You never made me cum with your dick, why should it be any different with your tongue?”

You and Tatum slap each other a high five, then a low five, as Stu grumbles.

“See you two at the party tomorrow night.”

You both mumble your agreement, distracted by one another. Tatum gives you a playful little lick on the cheek, and blows you a kiss as she runs off to her English class, blonde braids bobbing behind her.

“I love you! You’re adorable!” you call after her.

“You’re sexy! I love you too!” she calls back, running backward, and nearly trips over Freddy the janitor.

As you continue walking down the hall, books hugged close to your chest, your lovesick smile fades. It had been an unnerving week. Casey Becker and her boyfriend Steve had been murdered… like, gross-out murdered. They found her hanging from a tree by her intestines. That’s some serious horror movie shit.

The thing is, they haven’t caught the killer yet. He’s still out there, somewhere in Woodsboro, waiting to strike again…

The voice of reason, aka your girlfriend, returns to your head, telling you there’s no way it’s not an isolated incident. But as you take your seat in Spanish, all you can think of is a white mask, mouth as long and dark as Casey Becker’s casket.

Later that night, at your place, Tatum arrives faithfully with all the items she said she’d bring. She collapses onto your bed, getting into one of your T-shirts. You’re in your bra and panties, the LA heat stifling tonight.

“Hey… pretty spooky about what happened to Casey and Steve, huh?” you say, drawing your curtains closed as the sun finally goes down on your remote property.

“Yeah. It’s hitting Sid real hard, since it’s the anniversary of… y'know.”

“Right.” You tie up your hair. “Silly, I know, but I’ve been looking over my shoulder, making sure my windows are locked and stuff.”

“I don’t know, man,” she hums, “It creeps me out, but we’re pretty set. We’ve got Randy, who knows exactly what to do and what not to do to survive a horror movie.”

“True. Plus, your brother’s a cop.”

“Debatable.”

“He’s got influence in the local law enforcement,” you correct, smiling and sauntering past her.

“Also debatable.” She snorts. “The doofus wouldn’t know the killer if he was stabbing him in the face.”

“Don’t joke about that,” you mutter, tossing a strewn pair of panties at her, “I like Dewey.”

“Yeah,” your girlfriend inspects her nails, “I do too.”

You peek up through the hole to make sure you turned the porch light out.

“Huh.”

“What?” Tatum calls, blowing on her nails to cool.

“It’s just weird… there must be something blocking the peephole. I tried to look out but it’s all black.”

Tatum is quiet for a second, and her silence makes you hesitate as well. “You don’t think…?” you begin to mutter, and Tatum glances up.

“Don’t worry, babe. It’s probably some kids or something, stuck some gum over it. It was just Halloween, could’ve been a prank.”

“Yeah,” you agree, not believing a word of her theory. You walk back over, hold your breath, and take another look. A chill runs through you as you see that the peephole is now unblocked.

“Tatum–”

“Mmshhh,” she mumbles, her arms sliding around your middle from behind. Her face presses into your back, and she starts kissing the back of your neck, “Let’s not forget, we have the place to ourselves. We shouldn’t worry about stupid perverts probably trying to watch.”

You huff, making sure the door is locked. Then you turn around, to face your persistent girlfriend. Tatum gives that evil smirk, licking her bottom lip slowly as she begins to unbutton your blouse.

“You know,” you smile, taking her hands and leading her back toward the bedroom, “Having sex is on Randy’s no-no list of surviving a scary movie.”

Tatum rolls her eyes. “Randy just can’t get laid, and he wants everyone to suffer with him.”

“Maybe he’s got a point,” you tease, moving the two of you to the bed so that Tatum is laying underneath you. Her blonde hair splays out around her head as she stares up at you, amused. “I mean… have you seen Friday the 13th? That whole franchise is about killing horny teenagers.”

“Yeah well, we’re immune. The rule doesn’t apply to lesbian sex. Have you ever seen two girls in one of those movies bite it for having sex? Nope.” She pops her ‘p’ with those perfect lips.

You burst into giggles, and she giggles with you, wrapping her arms around your neck. You concede, pressing your lips to hers, and her giggles turn to moans as you thread your fingers softly through her hair.

“You look like an angel, laying on a halo of hair,” you mutter, and she raises an eyebrow.

“What the hell was that?”

“I heard it in a country song,” you giggle, and her face blooms into a beautiful smile.

“It’s sweet. You know, nobody’s ever been this nice to me in a relationship, (y/n). It’s nice to feel… appreciated.”

“Ditto.” You kiss her cheek, and her hands find your panties, fingers sliding in. She’s giving that vixen look again that gets you weak. She tugs your panties down, and patters her fingers along your inner thighs, as if she doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Mmm,” you moan, and she grins, finally moving one finger to rub your clit. You shudder, and she tips your chin so that you look into her eyes. She then goes down, crawling down the bed like a panther until she gets between your legs. Her tongue darts out, and she teases around you for a moment, before going for your sweet spot. She moans.

“You taste so good.”

“God,” you breathe, fisting at the sheets, “Tate, Tate… baby, I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do. You really do,” she replies, and goes back down on you, licking your clit and dipping every now and then a little lower to taste your wetness. After a few minutes of this, hearing her soft moans between your legs, seeing her head bob and move and feeling her tongue slide, you’re going to climax.

“I’m– I’m so close,” you gasp, and she swirls her tongue around your bud as you ride your orgasm out.

“What a good little girl,” she grins.

You reach down, pulling her up into another kiss as you roll her on top of you. She pulls her panties off, biting her pink lip, and as she continues rubbing you, you slip two fingers into her, curving them and letting her lower down.

“Ahhh, oh god, yeah,” she groans. She’s always the dramatically loud one in bed. It’s a super good thing no one’s home.

She starts to ride your fingers hard, and you reach up with your other hand to grab her breasts, taking turns massaging them. She does like it rough sometimes, and so do you, but tonight, she’s more in control. She rides your fingers even harder, gasping out your name.

“(y/n)… (y/n), make me cum… am I doing good?”

“So good Tate, sweetheart. So good for me.”

“I need to–”

“Fuck my fingers, my pretty little slut,” you smile, and she tilts her head back, hitting her own orgasm. You take your fingers out, and lick them clean as Tatum crawls up beside you on the bed contentedly, sliding under your arm and smiling hazily.

You’re about to go in for another kiss, when the phone on the wall downstairs rings. You groan, and Tatum grabs your bra strap.

“Don’t leave me. I’m scared.” When you turn back to look, you see she’s trying not to laugh. You roll your eyes.

“God, it could be my parents!” She gives up, and follows you down the stairs in a bathrobe she found. Just as you’re getting down to the kitchen, the ringing stops… you must have missed the call.

“They’ll call back if it’s important,” Tatum shrugs, and motions for your hand. Then the phone rings again. You both turn to look at it.

“Hello?” you answer. As you’re trying to focus on whoever is on the line, Tatum takes it upon herself to slowly give you a striptease with the fluffy pink robe, undoing the tie, sliding it down her shoulder to expose one of her breasts. “H-hello?” you repeat, eyes wide as you watch your girlfriend. She opens her mouth in an 'o’, presenting her boob like a game show woman would present a prize.

You giggle, and a voice finally speaks over the line.

_“What’s so funny?”_

Distracted, you turn away, still smiling. “Dude, who is this?”

_“I asked you first.”_

“My girlfriend’s making me laugh. Randy? Is that you?” Tatum starts to slip the robe all the way off. She kicks it away with her foot, and saunters toward you.

“Talk fast, cause I’m three seconds away from hanging up,” you bite your lip, dying to touch Tatum again.

_“You hang up on me you little bitch, I’ll cut your fucking head off.”_

Your stomach drops, and Tatum immediately notices the alarm in your expression. She hangs over your shoulder, trying to hear.

“Who is it?” she whispers.

“Uh…” you breathe. “It’s… I…”

“(y/n)?”

“I don’t…”

Tatum takes the phone. “Who is this?!” she demands.

_“Oh. Just somebody who wants to talk.”_

“Talk to someone else, we’re busy.”

_“I want to talk to you.”_

“Well, I want a million bucks and you to hang up.”

_“You must be the funny girlfriend.”_

“Look. What did you say to my girlfriend, creep?! She looks like she saw a ghost!”

_“She will. And so will you.”_

The line goes dead, and Tatum looks at the phone, frowning. You’ve never seen her so unsettled, but as usual, she tries to hide it under a breezy smile.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. Prank call.”

“Yeah,” you bite your nail, and Tatum picks up the robe, taking your arm and leading you away. You get into bed upstairs, and before she joins you, she makes doubly sure the doors are locked.

—

You and Tatum arrive at Sidney’s around 10, and end up sitting on the couch, making out for a bit. Tatum’s a little bit tipsy by 10:30, and you had a few hits off a joint, so the two of you are having a good time. Sid’s upstairs with Billy, “talking”.

Stu, Randy, and a couple others are sitting on the couch opposite you two.

“Tate, would you get us some more beers?” Stu asks. She glares at him.

“What am I, the beer wench?”

“I’ll come too,” you grin, thinking of the privacy you two’d get in the garage. Then Randy turns Halloween on the TV, and you gasp. It’s your favorite horror movie.

“You stay here and be my cute little nerd,” she pats your head and kisses it, “I’ll be right back.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” Randy calls.

“Why not?” you ask him, grabbing some popcorn.

“Rule of thumb in a horror movie. If you say I’ll be right back, you never come back.”

“Hey, careful, Wes Craven,” you scoff, “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about.” Randy puts his hands up. “Besides, why are you so convinced we’re living in a horror movie?”

“The body count is rising, (y/n).”

He shuts up when Stu starts making 'woooo’ ghost noises, but you start to worry. Randy’s right. There was another murder today, and you had gotten that strange phone call last night…

In the garage, Tatum opens the mini fridge and picks out some beer bottles, filling her arms. She hums 'Sweet Dreams’ to herself as she kicks the fridge door closed, and hears a rustling behind her.

“So, you gonna help me break all these over Stu’s head when we get get back in there?” she asks. She nearly jumps when she turns and sees someone other than you standing by the door. “Oh, shit. Thought you were (y/n). Randy?” The costumed figure shakes his head. “Oh, okay. What movie is this from, I spit on your garage?”

She tries to move past him with a dismissive huff, but she looks down to see a knife in his hand. Her smile fades, and she backs up.

“I think I’m gonna go check on Tatum,” you tell Randy.

“Oh, come on! This is the best part!”

“Randy, it’s 12 minutes in, Michael hasn’t even escaped the hospital yet.”

You hop over the back of the couch, and make your way down to Sid’s garage.

“Oh beer wench!” you call down the hall, “What’re you doing in there, brewing it yourself?” You can’t really hear her inevitable snarky reply over the beat of the music, so you keep walking.

Inside, Tatum backs away from the killer.

“You better stay far away from me, asshole,” she warns, and when he takes a step, she throws a bottle at his balls. It shatters, and he doubles over, giving her a chance to run. The only way out is through the doggy door… she doesn’t know if she can fit, but it’s preferable to getting stabbed.

You hear a faint crash, and the sound of the garage door opening. You rush the rest of the way there.

“Tatum!” you scream, and push the door open. She’s stuck in the doggy door, and it’s going up. You scream again, and tackle the tall figure in the costume out of sheer protectiveness. You take a nearby crate, and break it over his head, making sure he’s good and down before you get up.

“(y/n)!” Tatum calls weakly, eyes wide as she looks her death right in the face. You run over, grabbing her hands and helping pull her out of there before the door reaches the ceiling. She holds tight to you, and falls into your arms, crying into your chest.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, stroking her hair. She finally pulls away, wiping her trailing mascara.

“You literally saved my life.”

“Um. Yeah?” you breathe. She surges forward with a deep kiss.

“I god damn love you, (y/n).”

You two leave out the garage door, unwilling to step over the unconscious killer, and from your portable phone, you dial Dewey’s number. You have to hold the phone away from your ear as he shouts about Tatum. She snatches the phone, sniffling.

“I’m okay, doofus. Yes, of course, (y/n) was there. She’s my hero. Or heroine.” She bats her eyelashes at you, then her expression sours. “No, Dewey, I’m not doing heroin! I almost died, asshole! No– I don’t know, I didn’t stop to check who! See you soon. Don’t tell mom.”

You two sit, waiting for the cops and paramedics, hand in hand as people start to file out of the party, wondering what the hell happened.

“So… why’d you go out through the dog door?”

She laughs. “Do not start with me. I panicked, okay?”

“But the dog door? Really, Tate? With those boobs?”

“You know I have one brain cell, and it died when I saw the guy with the knife.” You just hug her close to you.

At least she’s still alive– that’s all that matters.


End file.
